


la petite mort

by knowtheway



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: F/M, First Time, Hurt/Comfort-ish?, Ritual Sacrifice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:41:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22588828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knowtheway/pseuds/knowtheway
Summary: Virgin sacrifices had always been a cornerstone of their faith. Not the murderous, blood draining kind - no, that barbarism was reserved for the mortals and their false god’s folly. Instead, like all other practices formed from his unholy wisdom, Lucifer made sacrifice a choice. Witches were to remain pure up until the completion of their Dark Baptism where they would, again, choose to sign their name and subsequent allegiance to Satan in blood.
Relationships: Faustus Blackwood/Zelda Spellman
Comments: 13
Kudos: 65





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Someone asked me to write a Spellwood “first time” fic ages ago and I started it, but hated it, and then never finished it. Re-visited it the other day and thought “Eh, what the hell? It could be worse.”
> 
> So voila - poorly-written first time smut with complicated emotions and relationships below.

When they’d drawn her name all those weeks ago, the prospect had been thrilling. Being chosen to give herself to the Dark Lord in this way was a badge of honor she could wear for the remainder of her life.

Virgin sacrifices had always been a cornerstone of their faith. Not the murderous, blood draining kind - no, that barbarism was reserved for the mortals and their false god’s folly. Instead, like all other practices formed from his unholy wisdom, Lucifer made sacrifice a choice. Witches were to remain pure up until the completion of their Dark Baptism where they would, again, _choose_ to sign their name and subsequent allegiance to Satan in blood.

The ritual had been created to further seal a witch’s devotion to the Dark Lord. At the start of term, all willing female members coming upon their 16th birthday would submit their name in the hopes of being Vestal Maiden for that year. Upon the night of her baptism, after signing the Book of the Beast, she would ceremoniously offer her innocence to Lord Lucifer and - in return for the gift of her first consummation - the coven would be blessed greatly as it pleased him.

Warlocks in their final year were permitted to enter for the right to act as surrogate for the Dark Lord and, with his guidance, take the virginity of the chosen maiden upon the stone altar where each Church of Night member had once signed their name. It was a much talked about event, of course, and scandalous rumors always bloomed over who might be selected and if they were worthy of it.

When she walked up after the high priest called her name, she’d heard a few snide whispers, but she took it in stride because the Dark Lord saw fit to choose her and that was all that mattered. She’d been so caught up in the delight of it, she hadn’t even realized the high priest was drawing for the warlock who would join her.

“Brother Faustus Blackwood,” he called out with a smile and immediately Zelda snapped out of her reverie. She felt shivers run over skin and her eyes widen as the sound of his footsteps clicked slowly from the back of the formed crowd.

Of all her prospects - she had known Faustus the longest. Ever since he’d taken Edward under his wing as Top Boy. And she’d be lying if she said she hadn’t hoped for this. For it to be him.

They’d spent the past year tossing suggestive remarks back and forth and the way he’d look at her at times was enough to have her body buzzing with pleasure. They toyed with each other perfectly and when he felt bold enough, he’d lean in close to whisper a promise that he would be the first to have her even if it meant taking her hard and rough right there on the forest floor.

The Dark Lord must have known. He must have been listening. How else could she be this fortunate.

She’d practically been glowing at the thought of having the Dark Lord’s favor when Faustus inched past the front of the crowd and walked over to the opposite side of their high priest. She smiled warmly, expecting that she’d catch his eye and he’d return the gesture. That the promise he’d made so many times before would burn so bright behind his eyes that she’d nearly burst into flames from the intensity of it.

Instead, she’d been met with the coldest of stares and the pit of her stomach tensed as if an ice pick had been run right through it. Once the high priest finished his speech and dismissed them, she’d walked over with her charm at full charge, ready to enter the banter of all banters now that it was a sure thing. But he’d only given her a tense smile, a quick congratulations, and an insultingly empty “good day” before he walked away and left her wondering what on Earth had made his tune change so fast.

A month later, she’s wrapping the fresh wound on her hand with clean cloth and soaking in the celebratory applause for her just having signed the Book of the Beast.

The power that surged through her veins at the last stroke of the pen was nothing short of euphoric - she never felt so formidable. She craved more and she would honor the Dark Lord with unwavering devotion in any way he wanted to have it.

The high priest congratulates her and then announces that the vestal ritual will begin. He instructs the coven to bow to her, per tradition, and then thanks her for the prosperity her sacrifice will bring them. She’s so happy, she could nearly cry. Never mind that Edward is begrudgingly tensing his jaw when he looks at her or that the jealous girls in her dormitory chanted a hex at her last night. This moment belongs to her and the Dark Lord and nothing will rob her of that glory. She’ll make him proud tonight, no matter what.

The high priest calls Faustus forward and the stoic look on his face is the only thing thus far to seed doubt in her mind. He’d barely spoken to her at all since selection day, and when he did - it was with about as much passion and interest as a block of ice. He perplexed her so much and any time she’d attempted to discuss it with Edward, he’d only lecture her on how “utterly rash and stupid” she’d been to enter herself in the first place. It distressed her greatly, but now that the night was upon her - she decides, steeling her expression and raising her chin, that their approval is of little consequence in the face of the Dark Lord’s high regard.

Anointing the stone table with oil in the shape of a pentagram, the high priest lays a white cloth over the symbol and mutters an incantation, shortly followed by a quickburst of light that flashes through the wood. He smiles wide, stating it’s a sign from Satan that their offer has been met with appreciation. Taking her and Faustus’ hands, he joins them together and then dismisses himself and the rest of the coven so the act can take place.

“Praise Satan” is said in unison and then the crowd begins to depart. Some choose to teleport and others slowly withdraw through the vine-covered threshold. As the last figure fades from view, a pang of nerves hits hard in her chest and she realizes her hand is still in Faustus’. She chances a hesitant look at him, her breaths shaky and uneven, and he stares back at her with painful indifference.

“Let’s begin, Maiden,” he says plainly and, masking the hurt she starts to feel from his tone, she nods.

“Yes, let’s.”

He guides them over in front of the table by the still-burning fire, letting go of her hand and then turning his back to her as he starts to remove his shirt. She’s not entirely sure what she should be doing. Shouldn’t they be... touching each other? Whispering words of promise or endearment?

“Should I... “ she says timidly and he halts unbuckling his belt, though he doesn’t turn around. “Should I be helping you?”

He pauses and she hears him let out a sigh before barely glancing over his shoulder to address her, “No. You needn’t do anything more than undress yourself and lay down.”

She flinches at the hollowness in his voice and cautiously runs her fingers over the silk of her robe. Beneath it are only her undergarments which the entirety of the coven saw not a half hour ago as she gave her soul to the Dark Lord, but she feels far more exposed now that it’s just the two of them.

It would be different if he were a stranger - they’d be on equal ground with each other then. But with the importance of the event combined with the rapidly building fear within her - she finds herself wanting the intimacy they once seemed to share. And he, for no known reason to her, refuses to give it to her.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she takes in a deep breath, and then removes her robe in one movement. The cold air hits her skin like a thousand needles, but she’s determined to play the part without any more hesitation. So she slips from her undergarments just as quickly and then hops up onto the table. The stone is near freezing and she yelps when it makes contact with her flesh.

Faustus turns around with a raised brow, having just removed his trousers, and she instinctively covers herself. She realizes the absurdity of it seconds later and meets his hardened gaze with her own, lowering her hands so that her breasts are visible in the firelight. His eyes roam over her naked figure and she takes the opportunity to scold him as he has her. “Will you be staring at me all evening, Faustus, or do you suppose we might be able to return to the academy before the hour of the dead?” she snipes at him, though her sharpness is slightly dulled by the shivering that’s currently wracking through her body.

He purses his lips, brow furrowed, and regards her silently. There’s an extended pause, and her breath hitches as he suddenly raises his hand. He calls out a spell that makes the stone table heat up under her skin and the warmth of it engulfs her within seconds. It’s a gesture she wasn’t expecting and as such, she looks at him sheepishly... and then gratefully before laying down atop the white cloth the high priest had placed there earlier.

She waits for him wordlessly, eyes cast up to the stars, and hears the crunch of the leaves as he begins walking over. Her trembling returns then, but not from the cold and she doesn’t dare to look at him lest he cut her down further with another emotionless expression.

He stops at the side of the table and there’s an anticipatory beat before she feels him climb atop it to join her. She closes her eyes, breathes deeply, and then there’s a touch of his hand gently on her knee, signaling her to open her legs for him to lay between them.

He does so slowly, carefully and when his face finally hovers over hers, the weight of him covers her entire body and she can feel the hardness of him pressing against her thigh. He gazes at her for a moment - almost curiously - and then says the ceremonial declaration the will call the Dark Lord forth to claim his prize, “Lord Lucifer, accept this gift with our humblest gratitude for your grace and guidance. This woman offers her innocence to you in the name of the Church of Night so that her coven may we be blessed by your eternal generosity. Praise Satan!”

“Praise Satan,” she repeats in a thready whisper and then looks at him expectantly, trying hard to steady her fast breathing and hide the surely apparent nerves in her eyes.

Not breaking her gaze, he reaches between them and places the head of his cock at her entrance. Her determination to do the Dark Lord proud just barely outweighs her trepidation now and right before he pushes into her, she says his name softly and he stills.

“... Will it hurt?” she asks quietly and he pauses a moment before answering.

“Yes,” he says earnestly with an affirming look and his honesty gives her a strange sense of relief. It’s just enough of what she needs to see this through.

She gives him a slight nod and then he moves his hips forward, a loud gasp escaping her lips as the full length of him enters her in one swift thrust.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He thankfully takes the first few moments slow, though it doesn’t stop her from grimacing, hard as she tries not to. Satan below, is this how it always feels? All her muscles are tense and her body is practically screaming at her to end it - she’s so painfully full with him and he’s not even trying to kiss her or touch her beyond the firm grip he has on her thigh. His eyes are closed as if he’s anchored in prayer and the thought that this is just a bothersome task to complete hurts almost as much the searing pain between her legs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s a bit of fluff, bit of smut, bit of angst, and a bit of blood. Something for everyone? 
> 
> Idk, please know that I genuinely tried.

He thankfully takes the first few moments slow, though it doesn’t stop her from grimacing, hard as she tries not to. Satan below, is this how it always feels? All her muscles are tense and her body is practically screaming at her to end it - she’s so painfully full with him and he’s not even trying to kiss her or touch her beyond the firm grip he has on her thigh. His eyes are closed as if he’s anchored in prayer and the thought that this is just a bothersome task to complete hurts almost as much the searing pain between her legs.

She can focus on little more than that, but she thinks she can hear him moaning softly with each thrust (which is in stark contrast to her own barely suppressed whimpering), so she must be doing something right. She’s just allowed herself the thought that perhaps this won’t be as difficult as she anticipated, but then he suddenly - too suddenly - adjusts his angle and she bites her lip hard, squeezing her eyes shut, and muffles the sharp cry that wants to escape her throat.

“Do you find this that bothersome?” she hears and she realizes he’s stilled his movements. Opening her eyes, his face looms over hers, looking labored yet mildly perturbed.

She shakes her head hesitantly, worry surely flooding her face at the potential of her sullying an honored tradition with her selfish need for comfort, and whispers, “No.”

“Is this not what you wanted?” he asks coldly.

She blinks, uncertainty flashing through her, but then she nods her head. “It is,” she says in the smallest of voices.

He takes a deep breath and then casts his eyes upward away from her, “Then, stop whining, Zelda,” and he begins to move again.

She gives a quick nod, which is mostly a reassurance for herself that she can bear it, and then clasps her hand to his shoulder for support. The touch seems to incense him and he groans softly as his hips snap forward faster. Zelda takes it as a hopeful sign that it won’t be too much longer. She had been told by the majority of her peers and elders (and the vast selection of naughty books she’d read) that it would be quick - that the tastes of carnal touch for a young warlock of his age were often too intense for his body to withstand for long. But Faustus must’ve been an exception or even more seasoned than she originally thought because he’s still pushing into her several minutes, which feel like hours, later. Can’t he just get on with it? Or is this his way of torturing her? If so, he’s doing a bloody good job of it.

She tries to move her legs, squirms underneath him, anything to alleviate her suffering, but nothing helps. The desperation for it to be over grows by the second and she starts to wonder if the problem might be her. He’d looked little more than annoyed when they’d been selected as a pair and his demeanor, though always reserved, had stiffened so drastically in her presence since. A creeping doubt starts to rear itself to the surface that perhaps she isn’t as coveted as she once thought - that perhaps she actually possesses a mere fraction of the allure her many suitors made her believe she had. Not that this is at all about lust or desire - no, this is about honoring the Dark Lord with the gift of her purity.

But still.

She remembers Edward’s resigned bitterness at the announcement, too - how he’d fought so very hard to keep her from submitting her name - and she hates to think her brother may have been correct when he told her the rite was not for her. She had taken his words as a challenge, of course, but a pang of remorse cuts deep into her heart because she realizes - by all accounts - perhaps she wasn’t ready for this type of grand devotion after all and by extension, that means she is unworthy of it.

The unpleasant realization heightens her physical discomfort and she decides this needs to end before she spirals into a place she can’t recover from. So she attempts to catch Faustus’ eye, but he seems adamant about not looking at her. It only makes the agony all the more unbearable because she thinks of the promise he’d once made and how very different it is from what she’d always imagined. How his ambivalence stings almost as much as the invading sharpness between her thighs and by Satan, she’s never felt pain so intense, it feels like she’s being ripped in half and she’s starting to feel far too alone and upset because he won’t look at her and he won’t bloody STOP...

“It hurts, please!” she gasps, tears she’d been holding back for quite some time now flowing freely down her cheeks. He immediately freezes and looks down at her. Though she can barely see him through her tears, she beseeches him, “I’m sorry... it hurts too much. ... Please, Faustus.”

She’s sobbing and though she hates herself for it, for conceding to beg for mercy, she finally feels a small bit of relief since he’s stopped.

“Zelda,” he says with the first bit of warmth he’s shown her all night, “Zelda, I can’t... not finish.”

She gasps out another sob and looks off to the side, “I... please... “

“If we stop now, they’ll know, and they’ll think ill of us for failing,” he murmurs and then his hand is on her chin, turning her gaze back to him. “I don’t  want to hurt you, but I must...  _we_ must complete the ritual.”

She knows he’s right, and far be it from her to disappoint the Dark Lord and their traditions, but she’s not sure she can do this anymore. She sniffs, staring into his eyes pleadingly and to her surprise - he looks genuinely concerned (for her or the prospect of failing, she’s unsure). He pulls out of her then and she gasps gratefully as he softly cups her cheek, letting his thumb glide across her face to wipe away one of her tears.

“What would help?” he asks quietly, still laying between her legs, and she can only stifle another sob in response because she has no idea what could possibly help.

“I don’t know... “ she whispers and she realizes she’s shaking. Why was he suddenly being so soft now when he seemed positively inconvenieced at the start of this?

“Alright,” he sighs and gives a resigned nod, making to move off of her, but the idea of this being how it ends makes a burst of panic flutter through her as the potential of facing this failure back at the academy comes closer and closer to reality. Moreover, she just wants to understand why someone who once looked at her with the hunger of a starving wolf now regards her with such thinly-veiled irritation.

So she stops him, laying her hand on his arm, and he looks down at her questioningly. “I... I must be so disappointing,” she says, eyes still glistening as fresh tears build. “Aren’t I?”

His brow furrows and she steels herself for the cold truth that’s surely about to be delivered from behind his hardened gaze. “No,” he whispers, his face tightening in confusion, “No, you’re not.”

Relief washes over her, but so does heavy confusion because nothing makes sense at all to her now. “Then why... you’ve been so cross, I thought I’d done... that you didn’t want... I don’t understand... “

She’s becoming somewhat hysterical, tears staining her face, and she’s feeling more and more foolish by the second so that she’s half-considering teleporting away, but then she feels his hand back on her face, tilting her head up by her chin. “Oh, Zelda no. No, no, no - you’ve not done a thing wrong,” he says soothingly but it only makes the tears come faster. “Shhh darling no, you... you have always been... _so_ exquisite,” and he leans down to plant two soft kisses on her face, “You have always been dear to me.”

She’s not sure she’s ever felt this distraught, this out of control of herself, and his fingers pushing her hair from her face as he looks at her with soft eyes does nothing to change how absolutely puzzled she is by his behavior. She knew Faustus liked to play games and could be cruelly unpredictable when he did, but she wishes he’d at least tell her the rules. 

He must sense her inner turmoil because he rolls on his side, grabbing her discarded robe and draping it over her as he scoops her into his arms.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers desperately, burying her face in his chest.

“Zelda,” he says with far more gentleness than she ever thought him capable of, stroking her hair, “You beautiful, silly thing. As if you could ever disappoint me... “

“I... Faustus, I don’t understand,” she repeats, pulling back just enough to see his face.

He lets out a deep sigh, again sweeping her hair from her face, and without meeting her eyes, he pulls her tight against him. “I should have explained,” he says, his voice heavy with remorse.

“Explained what?” she asks sniffling, and he looks down at her. “Did... do you not want me?”

“ _Of course I do_ ,” he says quickly. “I’ve _always_ wanted you,” she feels her lip tremble at his words, “and that presents quite a problem... ”

She scans his face and blinks in confusion. Whatever does he mean by that?

He squeezes her tight for a second and then releases her, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the table. He rubs a hand over his face wearily and she props herself up on her side, steadying herself by leaning her palm against the stone surface and waiting for him to speak.

He’s staring into the fire once he does and his voice is little more than resigned, “Zelda... do you know what my role is here tonight?”

She hesitates, unsure what he means, and then says in a hushed voice, “You’re... you’re meant to take my purity for the Dark Lord.”

“ _As_ the Dark Lord,” he corrects her, but she still doesn’t understand. “I’m not meant to enjoy any of this for myself... I’m supposed to be a vessel. A vessel only.”

“ ...Why does that matter?” she says cautiously.

He turns to face her, offering a weak smile, “Because the Dark Lord does not share what he wants and believes is his. Thing is... “

“Yes?” she says, holding her robe up against her chest and inching herself closer to him.

“I want you, too.” He looks at her pointedly then, letting out a deep breath. “I wanted this - _you_ \- for myself. ... Not exactly an ideal situation when your duty is to willingly part with what you want.”

It hits her harder than she’ll ever admit, but it’s like a crash of lightning and she feels positively stricken as the realization begins to dawn on her.

“I... “ he continues hesitantly. “I didn’t think it possible for me to subjugate my own desires without being cold to you. I figured that distancing myself and denying myself of your company would help prepare me to... part with you.”

She feels a warm tear run down her cheek. “And did it?”

He huffs out a small, morose laugh, wiping her tears away gently with his knuckles. “Not at all.”

She closes her eyes and leans into his touch just before letting out a breathy whimper and falling back into a fit of sobs. He quickly wraps his arms around her and she rests her head on his shoulder. She feels like such a proper fool, to have chased something so grand without considering the consequences. Edward had been right. This wasn’t for her. She _had_ wanted it - wanted the honor and the glory and the praise, but she also wanted... so much more. And she didn’t realize she would be giving one thing up in order to have another. Her mother had often warned her that everything had a price, but this was the first time she understood what she meant.

“I’m sorry, darling,” he whispers against her hair. “But it’s over now, I’ll take you back to the academy.”

Her head shoots up in panic, “No, we haven’t finished it!”

“It’s alright,” his voice surprisingly soothing as he reaches behind her. He grabs the white cloth she had been laying on and presents it between them. In the middle is a circle of deep crimson from where she had been laying. Blood. Her blood.

She gasps, not even realizing she’d _been_ bleeding, but then he softly touches her arm and gives her a reassuring look. “This should be enough to convince them.”

“But the Dark Lord?” she says, watching him rise to his feet and bundle up the cloth.

“That I don’t know,” he looks at her earnestly and then offers his hand to help her down. She doesn’t take it.

“No,” she says firmly. “I won’t go back until it’s done.”

He looks taken aback and eyes her curiously. “Zelda, if it hurt you that badly... “

“It did,” she says. “But I thought you didn’t... “ she trails off, shaking her head sadly and looking down at the forest floor, “ ...that hurt worse.”

He sits down next to her again and slides a hand in her hair to pull her face up. His eyes have never been a more piercing blue and she lays her hand over his, cradling her face into his touch.

“You don’t have to, Zelda,” he assures her in a low voice, chest heaving in anticipation.

Scanning his face quickly, she gives him an affirming look, “I want you to.”

She just barely gets the sentence out before his lips are on hers and his hands are sliding down her waist, her robe sliding to the ground without a care. His hands are everywhere, caressing and squeezing, and his lips slide down her neck as she moans softly.   


Yes, this is much better.

It takes no time at all before he’s pulling her into his lap and her stomach flutters with same nerves from before, but now there’s also an edge of excitement. He’s already hard again and she can feel him pressing against her thigh, but he continues to touch her with a frenzied patience, resting his hands on her hips and kissing across her chest.

She lays her hands on his shoulders and he looks up at her, breathless and hungry, and she swears - as her skin tingles all over with pleasure - that she’s never felt so _alive_. Hooking her arms around his shoulders, he glides his hand down her thigh, both panting as they stare into each other’s eyes.

She’s still a bit scared, but also so content, leaning in to kiss him again as he moves his hand between her legs. She gasps into his mouth when his fingers reach her cunt and her eyes slam shut. It aches, but as he gently caresses her slick flesh, it also feels... _so_ good.

“Faustus,” she whispers, looking into his eyes desperately as her nose brushes against his. He answers her plea and again positions himself between her thighs, but he waits there.

Bringing his fingers up to his mouth, she sees them coated with the sheen of herself and a small bit of her blood. He greedily sucks them into his mouth, groaning at the taste of her and she’s certain she’s never seen anything more erotic. Her body is absolutely buzzing with want now. Just as he pops his fingers back out, she crashes her mouth to his - all teeth and tongue - and sinks down onto him all at once.

A small cry escapes her lips and a tight grimace forms on her face as she adjusts to the feel of him. In stark contrast to before - he gently embraces her, whispering encouraging endearments into her ear as her hips start to move. It still hurts, but not nearly as much, and the warmth of his skin pressed against hers with the feel of his reassuring kisses at her neck makes it not even matter. Before long, it even starts to feel pleasant and he begins gently thrusting up into her as she softly moans against his lips.

“Does it feel good, darling?” he murmurs and she answers in a quiet whimper, nodding her head. “I can make it feel better. Would you like that?”

She hisses out a soft “yes” arching her neck and exposing the pale column of her throat. She hears him laugh quietly and the vibration of it makes her cunt clench tight around him. But that’s nothing compared to the near scream she lets out when she feels his fingers rub over her swollen clit.

“Yes, there you go, darling,” he whispers and holds her hip firmly to keep her moving, massaging tight circles just above where they’re joined together. “Isn’t that nice?”

She nods frantically, her voice stolen from her as she desperately sucks in air.

“Will you do something for me, love?” he says coyly and she again can only nod her head with a strangled moan, but Satan yes, she’ll do whatever he wants as long as he keeps touching her like that.

He presses his cheek against hers so that his mouth is directly against her ear and then he whispers, “I know about all those naughty books you checked out of the library, sweetheart. How you’ve touched yourself at the thought of being like those whorish little girls in those dirty novels,” she whimpers loudly, knowing she should probably be mortified, but the way he’s speaking and the way his fingers are still working her over only sends a flood of wetness between her thighs, “Do like those slutty girls in your books and come for me. Won’t you, darling?”

She cries out in assent and feels her cunt start to clench around him and then he’s chuckling softly as her hips roll harder over his. “Yes, that’s it, gorgeous” he says, “let me feel you come.”

With one final press of his fingers over her clit, she’s shaking all over as her body succumbs to the pleasure and she screams out into the night air. She’s utterly frozen in ecstasy, sparks of electric rapture shooting up her spine and her stomach twisting tight as she rides it out.

When she floats back down to reality, he’s kissing shoulder and softly stroking her back. She pulls away to look at him and realizes that she’s crying. This is exactly what she had always hoped for and it feelsfreeing beyond anything she’s experienced before. Maybe the Dark Lord was rewarding her after all and this is why he chose Faustus for her. Because she couldn’t imagine it being a fraction as right with anyone else.

“Alright?” he asks and she nods with a sniff. He kisses her softly then and she hugs her arms tight around his neck. If Faustus was her blessing from the Dark Lord, she wanted to be one for him, too.

So when they break apart for air, she wears a slight smirk on her face and he looks at her in admiration.

“Now,” she says slyly, “Won’t you do as all those naughty boys do and come inside me?”

He narrows his eyes with a hungry grin and grabs her hips firmly. “As you wish, maiden,” and she gasps as he thrusts up into her.

It takes no time at all for him to be on the brink of release and she’s curiously finding the idea of his pleasure equally thrilling as her own. He had given her exactly what she needed, they had given themselves to each other.

Except. No. She hadn’t. She gave herself to Satan. Twice in one night. Even though she’d promised - and wanted - to give herself to Faustus.

He’s staring deep into her eyes and she can tell he’s close. Satan help her for what she’s about to do, but did he not command them to embrace and satisfy all their desires? So he would certainly understand and be satisfied - she’d given him her soul in exchange for the power of her own body after all. She was only _honoring_ him by seizing the choice for herself.

He’s moaning softly, his thrusts becoming rapidly erratic, and she kisses him quickly before leaning in, whispering into his ear, “It’s yours, Faustus. _I’m_ yours.”

His head falls back and he pulls her down onto him hard as he comes with a loud groan. She can feel him spurting hot and forceful inside her, and she sighs blissfully at the feel of it. She loves it. Loves being full of him and watching him come undone in front of her.

He takes several moments to catch his breath and she rests her forehead on his as he strokes her hips, breathing out a strangled “beautiful” or “gorgeous” every few breaths.

Once settled, they stay nestled in each other’s arms far longer than necessary, but she’s too wrapped up in savoring his sated smile and he can’t seem to stop kissing her.

It’s another hour before they start back to the academy, hands intertwined and a pleasant energy washing over them. Faustus carries the ceremonial white cloth in his hand, prepared to present it to the high priest as proof of their completion.

A small part of Zelda wonders if there will be any consequence for her last minute deviation, but the high priest’s proud smile upon their return offers her some assurance that there won’t.

********

The coming months have the coven experiencing the worst spring harvest in a decade and an outbreak of a meddlesome virus afflicts several students. Rumors begin to spread that someone must have done something to displease the Dark Lord. Even so - as she slips away to meet Faustus in the academy gardens for the fourth time that week and reach that blissful state of pleasure all over again, she can’t bring herself to care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Perhaps slightly softer than they normally are, but I figure as teenagers - they were possibly more unguarded since life hadn’t quite taken them by throat and jostled them about too much yet. Hope someone out enjoyed this mess. lol Thanks for reading, as always! xx

**Author's Note:**

> Second part is like 90% finished, so hopefully will be up tonight or tomorrow. Hope it isn’t total trash (but it probably is). 😅 Thanks for reading!


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